Evading The Eevee
by DrkVrtx
Summary: All it takes is a single question and bam, goodbye innocence. Reposting of three separate fics as a compilation.
1. Hit That Yet?

_20.37 so we just got maths right?_

_20.37 yeh, shouldnt take 2 long_

_20.37: if i can be bothered_

_20.38 not doin it 4 you again unless you pay me_

_20.39 Lol w/e...what's that poke you got again?_

_20.40 my sister's? an eevee_

_20.40 serious? that's kinda rare...you hit that yet?_

_20.41 who?_

_20.42 the eevee_

_20.44 ...what?_

That's where it all started, and damn that fool for slipping the thought into my head in the first place. A perfectly innocent conversation which I participated in with a perfectly innocent frame of mind but which I left with that little, anonymous voice whispering in my ear. Great. What was that voice whispering, you ask? Well, let me ask you something: What is your first reaction to the word Pokephilia?

Hmm...I didn't expect that...A shrug? You do realize what that word entails, don't you? I didn't. Well, I suppose I did, I just didn't know about that specific word. There's a much simpler, cruder way to put it. Until that idiot went and brought it up though, I had not in the minuscule slightest considered it. That was three days ago, and since then, my curiosity has had the better of me.

_'...you hit that yet?'_

I honestly had no clue who he was talking about - I know I know, you think that's pretty unlikely considering the immediate topic of conversation, but I'm serious. My mind is innocent, untarnished...somewhat. It's unavoidable really. Seventeen, male, hormones, computer in my bedroom...So yeah, I've seen some...many things. And we all have our fantasies, right? Despite what we tell our friends, we all have our too-strange-too-admit fetishes. Those things that we _really_ shouldn't be getting excited by, and yet we do. We can't quite explain it and we most likely wouldn't indulge in it with a real person in a real relationship...but that's what dreams are for.

So this thing, then, this 'pokephilia'...it sounds like all of the above, right? I mean, we all know what pokemon are. Some - well many, I assume, build a strong, healthy relationship with the pokes they own that can rival the relationships they have with other humans. Relationships built on love and trust and so on and so forth - I've seriously had too many people detail these kind of things to me. I'm not a pokemon person honestly, don't mind them, I just don't want one.

The eevee I mentioned? The one that belongs to my sister? It's effectively a house pet, it belongs in a sense to everyone. My mother, father, sister and I hold it in equal love and adoration for its scientifically proven irresistible cuteness. We've had it for years, yet it steals all attention when it enters the room. I mean damn, it's in my room right now, curled up at my feet, watching me type away with those big, round eyes, tail shivering every few seconds...You see?

Annnyway, Pokephilia, the act of...hitting that. Not like that, obviously.  
It's...well, it's disgusting, to me. I mean, they are at the end of the day, animals. Humans and animals? No thank you, and I in my innocence assumed this view to be commonly shared. Until that little voice whispering in my ear nibbled away at my tolerance, sparking my curiosity beyond restraint and thus I found myself on Google, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

What was I supposed to search? Not knowing the term 'pokephilia' at that moment, I'd no idea how to express myself without being distastefully crude. In the end, I settled on 'pokemon sex'. This led me to authoritative sites regarding the mating of various pokemon species amongst themselves. Not what I wanted - well, not I what I was looking for. I wasn't sure I wanted...it. Next try then: 'humans with pokemon sex'.

Bingo.

Scrolling down the first page of results, all I could do was shake my head and mutter: "Google". I clicked on the top result and braced myself. A few seconds later, the welcome banner to PokeFreaks builds itself upon my screen. The room around me seemed to become uncomfortably warm. I scroll down, eyes widen. And the dragon wakes. I can literally feel the quickened pulse of blood downstairs and I freeze in utter disbelief. No. Way. My mouse seems to move of its own accord and PokeFreaks and those horrible, horrible images disappear.

I readily conceded that immediately jumping into the deep end was _definitely_ not the wisest choice. But waking the dragon had done wonders for my curiosity. Well, I loved to read, I should be able to educate myself that way, right? Right. Wikipedia, type pokemon sex, redirected because the term creates disambiguation, see Pokephilia...think: the fear of pokemon? Click.

Oh...good Lord,_ really?_

I'd never in a million years expected this thing to be so...accepted. Paragraphs upon paragraphs...upon paragraphs. Detailed histories, popular advocates - at least those who possessed utterly no shame and cared little for the cry of the outraged anti-pokephiliacs - psychological experiments, brief accounts of case studies - it just kept going on and on. Then: popular Pokemon. Guess who was on that list. Yeah...

Supposedly, the experience of sexual intercourse with a Pokemon was completely different depending on the Pokemon's type. Concerning this point specifically, there was listed a number of quotes - mostly from Mr./Ms. Anonymous - stating quite strongly that this aspect alone had led them to value human-pokemon relationships of a sexual nature well above the human-human variation. I was, admittedly, appalled. And intrigued.

I will be perfectly honest with you. I am a virgin. I don't mind telling you this because this is the internet, and anonymity is a godsend. It is the quintessential reason for the existence of trolls. We are all trolls, and we can be as offensive and disruptive as we damn well please without fear. But anyway, my hand is my best friend, my lover, and with the power of my imagination, I can close my eyes and whisk myself away to the perfect moment. But let's be honest, eventually you get tired of the hand - or toys/fingers/fists if you're lucky to be female. Or perhaps are rather adventurous male. With your mind, you can always conjure up that perfect scene, but the hand will not suffice for long.

You know what I've always wanted? A blowjob. To have my lover give me that small, seductive smile before slowly slipping me into her mouth...I imagine I would sigh as the warmth of her breath crept into me, and I'd probably grit my teeth when her tongue teased the underside of my cock. She'd seal soft lips around its head and lap at my tip as though it were the sweetest candy. I'd probably start to feel that urge to explode pretty quickly, and I'd close my eyes and squeeze as hard as I could, but it probably wouldn't help. So I'd take hold of her head - not aggressively mind you, not that sort of person. I'd play with her hair, run my fingers through it, aid her gently as she begins to move to stroke me. A few seconds later, I'd have to give her the warning, hopefully she'll tell me it's okay. And afterwards, I'd kiss her; I wouldn't care how she tasted. I'd definitely kiss her...

_Woah_, umm sorry about that, writing is my escape. Yeah...

So, how does a pokemon beat that? Can it express itself in the same way as a human? Can it give you that one particular glance that sets the heart pumping? That small smile that wakes up Captain Lancelot? (Sorry) You know what's funny? I have an Eevee right next to me, I absolutely have no need to be asking these question to the randoms of the interwebs. I could just pick it - her actually - up and...find out. But I can't, I could never.

Unfortunately, I've considered it over the past three days, and at one point, I dreamt about it. Do you know what happened in that dream? I was sleeping and Eevee crept into my bed, nudging at me with that cute little button nose until I woke up. I did, reluctantly, cursing...switching on the bedside lamp to find a panting Eevee standing amongst my ruffled quilt, gazing without shame at the tent protruding from beneath it. She takes a small step forward and nudges her nose against it, murmuring her name. Something takes hold of me and I throw the quilt aside, reaching inside my boxers and for Eevee at the same time. Rising to my knees as Eevee presents herself to me, I expose myself to the night.

I breathe raggedly. Here I am, about to lose my virginity to a cute little animal. She pants heavily as I stroke my thumb down the back of her thigh towards the moist promise of her lips. I shuffle forward then, eager as the haze of pleasure settles over my eyes. Eevee looks over her shoulder...but it isn't an Eevee looking back at me, it is my sister. Horror shoots the bullet and I wake up with a scream. A scream, ladies and gentlemen.

The truth is that 'hitting that' with Eevee would essentially be the same as me doing the same to my sister, I simply cannot separate the two. Eevee joined the family by way of being an (expensive) gift to my persistent, _lovable_ sibling and as fond as the little thing may be of me, I will always associate its existence with her to such a degree that - to put it bluntly - I would, by screwing Eevee, involuntarily imagine myself screwing my sister. Sorry for that image, I did warn you.

But yeah, that's the truth of it. The thing is since coming across that wikipedia page, my disgust towards pokephilia has actual waned, inexplicably. If I'm honest, I think it's actually the inability to separate my sister and Eevee that is keeping me from crossing that line.

But I draw your attention back to a previous point I made: I'm tired of my hand. It most certainly can't satisfy me for much longer. And another thing: that wikipedia article? According to it, Pokemon are able to pick up on the sexual desires of their masters. According to it, Pokemon are _perfectly willing_ to help their masters sate their urges. So here lies my dilemma. Oh great, Eevee just decided to stop being a lazy ball of cute and rest its head on my thigh, gazing up at me with those eyes...Damn!

One hand drumming the keyboard mindlessly, the other's stroking Eevee's head. What would it be like, I wonder. Probably hurt, I think, she has teeth after all. Still, might be even more arousing, a gentle scrape of the teeth...Her mouth would be warm, warmer if she was a Flareon I guess, and I'm sure she would let me come.

Sorry, had to step away for a moment there, guess I'm one of the few left with self-control. Sooo not letting Eevee in here again, not for a while. Tempting as it is, I think I prefer my original fantasy.


	2. What Are You Waiting For?

Me again. What's up there interwebz. Well, it's a wonderful day for me. Well, my sister actually. It's her birthday, and that warrants lots of food, tons of drink, friends chattering away in the living room and drowning out whatever terrible pop music they have blasting from the TV. Presents? She gets a small mountain. Me? I've been getting socks for my special day recently. Just give me money...not socks...I think I have enough now, thanks...

Anyway, finally managed to escape the festivities downstairs. Feigning enjoyment for an hour or two can be quite tiring. I now return myself to the interesting world of my computer screen, happy times.

_16:43 sup man_

_16:43 not much, just escaped the party_

_16: 44 antisocial_

_16:44 bored_

_16:44 same difference_

_16:44 w/e_

_16:46 lol so what, you gonna be all over that pr0n all night?_

_16:47 i think your getting the 2 of us mixed up_

_16:47 lol i'd admit it if i was gonna. your 2 much of a good boy_

_16:48 mmm_

_16:48 case in point..._

_16:51 ?_

_16:52 your eevee_

_16:52 ..._

_16:52 so?_

_16:53 -_-_

_16:54 What are you waitin for lol_

_16:55 Your missing out man, i know you've been the pr0n_

_16:55 nah my mind's pure_

_16:56 course it is_

_16:58 im not doing that with a poke, def not my sis' poke_

_16:59 better not invite me round ever again lol_

Goodbye happy times, hello sexual frustration. Goddamn persistent bastard.

It's been two months since he planted - accidentally or intentionally, more likely the latter - the idea in my head, and I haven't been able to shake it. If I was dumb enough to leave my internet history intact, the list of sites visited almost daily would be proof enough. One would be able to watch the pattern form. A trickle of PokeFreaks there, a smattering of Blazing Buns here (I know right, 'Blazing Buns'?), spread out innocently over a number of days and interspersed with actual articles regarding the subject of Pokephilia - I like to delude myself into thinking I'm 'reading up' on the subject with casual interest. And then as the weeks go by, sites with equally absurd names begin popping up with more frequency, hidden amongst my lists of 'regular pr0n', PokeFreak being the most common.

Once you get started, well, I guess you can say I've got the bug...Oh wow, I wish I didn't say that. I've stumbled across some strange, nightmare inducing things. An utter newb in the realm of poke porn, I've innocently clicked on links that should not have been clicked on.

You know Caterpie? Of course you do. Not very big are they? Well you know that there are people who are _really_ fanatic about their bug pokemon? Spend days and weeks in places like Viridian Forest even though there's only like two species of bug pokemon in there? Yeah, some of them really know how to...help their pokemon grow. Let me just leave that there. My mental scar is already stinging.

Then there are people who really need to be told they're in _way_ over their heads.

I'm not quite sure how a beast like Charizard takes pleasure from her trainer, who by comparison with a male charizard must feel like an irritable itch, or how said trainer can take pleasure from said Charizard seemingly crushing his pelvis by riding him with little restraint. I guess your body gets used to it? And then, there's the situations where the genders are switched: a male Charizard and its female trainer. Well...wow. That's all. _Wow_.

I've seen some 'regular' porn where the star's antics have had my jaw needing to be scooped off of the floor. The kind of thing that you can only go 'wtf...' to, but replace the grunting, dirty talking human males with a full blooded male Charizard who in his peak moment breathes fire _mere inches_ away from his trainer's head? Ladies, doesn't...doesn't that hurt? Those things can get pretty thick. Surely the pain to pleasure ratio is _heavily_ unbalanced.

I mean, that's the sort of the thing that stops you halfway through rubbing one out. I vividly remember boggling at a scene where a green haired woman provocatively dressed in uniform spreads her legs for a fully grown Arcanine that proceeds to pound away at her hard enough to shove her body across the grass with every thrust. There is something highly amusing - and somewhat nauseating - about seeing a woman fucked literally in circles.

Since seeing things like that, I can't help but feel inadequate, and in my moments of lucidity I have to wonder if those amazingly resilient women will or have ever enjoyed a human-human relationship.

I remember my first foray into PokeFreaks, specifically; I clicked off that thing hella fast. My poor innocent mind wasn't ready. Now though? I've browsed that thing for hours. It seems to be the main hub, as it were, for not only poke porn but pokephiliacs themselves. Every time I sign in (yes, sign in), I'm greeted with numerous chatboxes giving me the opportunity to chat with people who statistically share the same likes. What do I like? Well...damn, that's a tough question.

I mentioned before that I wasn't really a Pokemon person, right? Never had a particular favourite type or specific pokemon. I was one hell of a newb. In the world of pokephilia though, it seems there are particular shared favourites across the whole community.

Gardevoir, perhaps THE quintessential Pokemon when one is talking about pokephilia. Lopunny. I swear this things are just bred purely for sex. I'm certain whichever God dreamt up Pokemon has a harem full of the things. Anything with tentacles or the ability to produce vines, for obvious reasons. Fire pokemon, of either gender. I could get specific...but I think that's a fairly obvious one too, if you know about the whole different types different experiences deal. Jigglypuffs, rare as hell, and those who were lucky enough to have caught one seemed to be incredibly jealous and thus incredibly selfish. But for good reason. It's all in the name. What else...well there are quite a few - ah yes, how could I forget?

Eevee. Which brings me back to my dilemma. My sister's cute, adorable, positively irresistible Eevee.

I haven't let that thing in my room for two months. It used to wander in here at any time of any day without a care given from either of us. But since that bastard fed me the bait...I don't trust myself. I've already crossed one line, and I don't think it's done great things for my mental health. I'm either having nightmares, or super erotic/disturbing dreams...which I also tend to qualify as nightmares. I can't go outside and see a trainer with his or her pokemon and think nothing of it. Damn, I can't even think of a Rattata with disgust anymore. Now its more of a half baked revulsion coupled with the hazy images of scenes I wish I hadn't seen.

You don't see a professionally captured picture of a well endowed man drilling the backdoor of a plump Rattata and have a particularly good day afterwards. Believe me.

But yeah, back to the point. My door stays shut at all times, and the Eevee is too small even when standing on her hind legs to reach the handle. I've had to suffer days and weeks of her pawing at my door while moaning out her name. Of course, at first there were often times were someone would come along and scold me for ignoring her, unlocking my door and letting her in. She'd bound in with obvious glee and either rest her little head on my lap (dangerously close to areas that loved to wake up at inappropriate times), or curl up at my feet or next to my desk.

What's so special about my room, I don't really knew. I had to be cruel though, once my parents or sister had disappeared, Eevee was deposited back outside the door and said door pulled shut. Eventually, everyone in the house got fed up of my antics. Eevee was 'unwanted'.

I figure she knows better than them all though, probably even knew better than I do. Pokemon can supposedly pick up on their master's sexual desire, right? Probably isn't a coincidence that she's often pawing away at the door when I'm perusing my favourites, tissue box within reach.

Gods I'm getting fed up with my hand; you've no idea how hard this is...Not the best choice of words there. Well, you're probably wondering why I haven't just got up, pulled the door open, and sated my desires with a perfectly willing Eevee yet. I mean, damn, it's almost a dream come true, right? In theory, I'd never need to masturbate again. Hell, I probably never needed to!

Damn right I've thought about it, and damn right more than once. What would her mouth feel like...what would her sweet, sweet centre taste like...and then after I have my fill, I'd slowly introduce myself to her.

I've imagined teasing those wet lower lips, torturing both of us for long, painfully pleasurable moments as I listen to her whimper her name, begging me for more. Eventually, I give. I push myself in and the world suddenly doesn't matter anymore. My eyes water with sheer pleasure and suddenly my body come alive.

My hands are at her sides, her impossibly soft fur gripped between my fingers as my hips move of their own accord. I've lost control and I don't want it back. I'm thrusting so deep and so fast and Eevee is tight and wet and hot around me. Why the hell did I wait so long for this? Why have I been denying myself something we both desperately want? And Eevee - she looks so happy too, I can honestly believe that she wants to experience this with me. Her eyes are telling me to explode and I really really reaaaally can't hold back any longer.

Damn.

Well, there you have it. Just thinking about thinking about it has got me all hot and bothered, and guess who's at my door again? What a birthday present that would be, if it was my birthday of course. Definitely better than fudging socks. 'Unwrapping' Eevee would be an interesting experience, poking my tongue inside her juicy -

No. Nononono, calm yourself down child, you've lasted this long. If I cross that last line, I don't know what I'll do...

Screw it, I love to read. I'll go find that fanfic about daycare centres and sex crazed pokephiliacs I came across the other day. Do you believe people write stories about this nonsense? Gods, what is the world coming to.


	3. So How Was It?

I open my eyes to a wet tongue lapping at my cheeks and the corner of my mouth. I swear I didn't fall asleep. My stamina might not be what I had fantasised, but I definitely didn't fall asleep afterwards. Besides, that's considered rude, isn't it? Surely a cuddle and the murmur of sweet nothings is standard affair, at least it is in the things I tend to read. I may as well follow the example and bask in the afterglow, except I really don't feel like I'm glowing. Her breath is warm and sweet against my skin, and she nudges her cute little nose against mine. I should be happy. Wait. No, I _am_ happy. I think. It's just…I don't know.

Lifting my head an inch from the pillow and turning to my room's sole window lets me know that I had in fact fallen asleep. Idiot. Everyone would be home soon, back from visiting some relatives I didn't really care for and had lamented that I had tons of work to get done so that I could escape the occasion. My apologies, Aunt and Uncle Something or other.

My attention is drawn by a paw resting on my arm, but I don't want to look at it. I can't make myself look at her again. I drag myself silently out of bed, pushing the sheets aside and reaching for my clothes. Head down and eyes fixed firmly to the floor, I make my way to the bathroom.

xxx

_19:34 Whats up. Got somethin 2 tell me?_

_19:34 Yeh. Figured you'd wanna know_

_19:34 Oh? Im all ears_

_19:36 So? Gonna tell me or not?_

_19:36 I did it_

_19:37 It?_

_19:38 With eevee_

_19:38 You serious?_

_19:38 Mm_

_19:38: Haha! Only took you a damn year_

_19:39 Biding my time._

_19:39 Sure. So you finally lost the V card. To an eevee. Damn you know how many peeps can say that?_

_19:40 I assume not a lot_

_19:41 Lol. Damn right. So how was it?_

_19:43 You there?_

_19:43 It was good_

_19:44 …good_

_19:45 Bro. An eevee. It HAD to be more than good_

_19:46 I dunno man. It doesnt feel right_

_19:47 Only you could whine after laying an eevee. An eevee bro!_

xxx

An Eevee. I'm one the few lucky 'peeps' on the perhaps the whole planet to be able to make that claim. I could visit a few of the ol' haunts and type up a sizzling story that would have more than a few members pestering me with PMs for pictures and videos, a good amount among that number no doubt offering to trade Pokes me with. But as I've said before, she isn't mine. Even if she was mine, after some of the things I've seen, I think I'd be more than a tad wary of whose hands I'd be trading my cute little bundle of joy into.

Whatever. I don't really want to think about it right now. It stirs thoughts and other areas that I don't really want stirring, particular when wearing jeans. In public.

I'm currently waiting at the train station for a friend of mine; it's a good excuse to be out of the house and away from everything. But I'm not just here merely because of that; I haven't seen this friend in a little over a year. I wouldn't openly admit that I had missed her though.

The train pulls up in all its technologically advanced glory, and people on the platform are already pushing towards the doors. Politely, I must add. It's plain to see they're all eager to get on and get a good seat, but they somehow manage to refrain from pushing and shoving even when they've gathered close together. A remarkable skill civilised society has taught itself right there.

The doors hiss open and people spill out onto the platform, among them several trainers who almost immediately clutch pokeballs in hand as they leave the train. I give myself a little height by standing on the balls of my feet, looking out for her. She appears from a door to my left, looking out across the platform in search of me. Her obliviousness to my presence gives me a moment to take her in as she takes a few steps forward.

Chocolate brown skin, dark hair cropped much shorter than it had been when she'd left, retreating from her shoulders to just above her ears. The station is roofless and the way the sun seems to make her skin glow is heavenly. No idea why I'm describing this little moment in such detail though, not really necessary is it? Though I suppose I've given the game away now.

"Melissa!"

She turns in my direction and smiles as she sees me waving a hand enthusiastically through the air like an idiot. A hand is already reaching to her laden belt as she hefts a travel bag over her shoulder. Seeing her apologise profusely after releasing a Blastoise and almost crushing a passing couple in the process brings tears of laughter to my eye.

She comes over at last, her Blastoise lumbering along by her side and I offer to take her bag after a particularly tight embrace and the momentary averting of my eyes when she plants a more than welcome kiss to my cheek.

"Nah, I'm fine", she says.

"I insist", I reply. I am, of course, a gentleman. A somewhat regretful gentleman a few moments later however, when she shrugs and hefts the bag from her shoulder and hands it out to me. I take it and plummet to the ground.

"What the hell is in this thing?" I lament, struggling to stand with it in tow. She laughs and takes it from me, and there I notice the toned nature of her arms, the alluring curve of muscle beneath tight, dark skin.

Oh, hello. We're getting distracted here. Focus, if you please.

Anyway, we stand talking on the platform for a few moments before I point out that her hulking Blastoise is causing passerbys inconvenience. The train station isn't that far of a walk from our neighbourhood.

Yup, that's right. We're neighbours, I and Melissa. Not necessarily next door neighbours, more next-next-next door neighbours. You get the idea. I've known her for roughly all my life, though she's two years older than me, and much more ambitious.

Her year-long absence can be explained by her joining the professional circuit of the competitive Pokemon world immediately after finishing her formal education. She is by far the best Pokemon trainer I know of, so I don't doubt any of the stories she tells me as we walk back home from the station.

We stop at a small park around the corner from our respective homes, Melissa insisting that she wants to play on the swings like a five year old. I suppose she deserves her little moment to frolic, being a professional Pokemon trainer sounds like tough work. All work, no play. She cheats the playground rules by getting a huge shove from Blastoise to start things off with, so she is already swinging higher than the other kids by the time she swoops forward a second time. I laugh and shake my head.

We exchanged a few emails while she lived over in Hoenn, but she didn't seem to have the time to properly chat, though I didn't really take offence. I wanted to tell her about my dilemma, but could never make myself do it through email, and she would always be very brief over the phone. Well, I'm intending to now, though it's taking a bit more internal push and shove than I expected.

Melissa has always been an open-minded person, and if there is one person I can trust to tell this to besides another particular ever horny friend, it's her. Still, as she walks over to me, Blastoise in tow, I find that I'm a little doubtful. She may be open-minded, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be disgusted by what I'm planning to tell her, perhaps to the point that I would have to consider our friendship marred beyond repair, did it? Heck, she might even call the police on me! I've checked thoroughly believe me, but the laws surrounding Pokephilia are far too complex and convoluted for my poor brain to properly grasp. I'm not too sure if it's illegal or otherwise, basically. Still, I need to ask someone sensible.

"Melissa".

"Yeah?"

"Do you…" I wince preemptively. "D'you know what Pokephilia is?"

"Sure", she says, folding her arms and leaning against the huge frame of her Blastoise. "It's pretty common over in Hoenn, actually".

I'm staring. Slack-jawed. I know I am but I can't help it. Melissa raises an eyebrow as she looks me over. And then she starts grinning.

"Something you want to tell me?"

xxx

I really did stay behind to do work. No, really. Alright, fine. I'm staying back _partly_ because I have a crap ton to get finished. In truth, I'm fed up. Tired. Pissed off.

It's been a whole year since that bastard put the thought into my head and I haven't managed to extricate it yet. Check through my internet history – well, you could if I was an idiot who didn't browse incognito. I'll tell you anyways. I'd say about eight out of ten sites I visit are Poke related. At times I have to make myself look at the 'real stuff', just to ensure that I am in fact normal and can still be turned on by the opposite sex.

As I've said before though, there comes a time when it just isn't enough. The hand and a box of tissues simply will not do anymore. I've considered buying a toy, but I can be an extremely cautious young man and I don't like even the remotest possibility of someone finding it, family or friend. But of course, I have an alternative.

The last few months have been incredibly difficult; I honestly don't know how I've lasted so long honestly. But it's over now, I give up.

Eevee knows me so well. Too well. I leave the door ajar and she waltzes right in. Cute beyond comprehension. Light shining in the black gems of her eyes. It's not too late though, I could turn back now. Close my eyes, growl and kick her out? But now she's padding quietly over to me, standing on her hind legs and holding herself steady with her paws on my knees. She's whispering her name to me, a paw moving forward while I'm sitting here struggling to breathe. And now she's pressing that paw to the bulge beneath my jeans.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am done.

I've no idea how or when things change, but suddenly I find myself standing at the edge of my bed, Eevee presenting her backside and luscious lips to me. My hands have found the wrapper of a condom – told you I was extremely cautious, didn't I? – and after some nervous fumbling, I finally slip it on.

Eevee is patient, softly breathing her name in anticipation. My heart is racing in my chest, thudding to an almost painful beat. I've always imagined myself to be the confident, sure-handed man in my pleasure fuelled fantasies…turns out that isn't quite the case in practice. Well, live and learn.

I'm afraid I might hurt her though; I'm reasonably blessed in the downstairs department, nothing to really shout about, but Eevee is such a small thing. My aim is a little awry, I will admit, but I get it right eventually.

She's hot, and wet. And oh so tight. I've barely begun and I know I'm not going to last. But it's alright, Eevee understands. She's telling me so with those deep black eyes of her as she looks over her shoulder, whispering her name. My hips start moving all on their own.

Why oh why oh _why_. My goodness I have wasted so much time. Halfway through my first thrust and I know that I am never going back to that box of tissues.

A strange, strained groan leaves my throat and I cringe in embarrassment at the sound. Eevee tilts her head as I jerk forwards and fill her, her name intermingling with my grunts and groans. I feel her walls pressing tight against my poor inexperienced cock and refusing to let me go. My number of thrusts barely reaches double digits and I'm already gripping her body far too hard as my legs shake and my seed spills into the protective rubber cushion wrapped me.

Something washes over me in the aftermath of pleasure. I'm not too sure what it is until the haze lifts from my eyes. I see myself embedded in a tiny, fragile Eevee, my hands clutching her middle like a vice. Now I understand what it is: shame. But despite it, I feel myself hardening again. The haze falls over my eyes once again and believe me, I am all to happy to succumb to it.

xxx

"So", I say, spreading my hands in an open gesture and shrugging lamely. Melissa considers me for a long moment, smiling all the while, though I can't really tell what this particular smile means.

"How did you feel afterwards?" she asks me.

"I don't…I don't think it was right", I answer. "I took advantage of her, didn't I?"

But Melissa shakes her head. She lifts an elbow and nudges Blastoise playfully.

"See this one?" she says as he belches his name in what I assume to be affection.

It takes a while for me to process exactly what she's saying, and when it finally sinks in my eyes widen and inadvertently fall to the Pokemon's crotch, thankfully hidden from the eyes of innocent children by his thick shell. Melissa laughs.

"You – him – doesn't that…_hurt?_" I say with a wince.

"Admittedly, yes. In the beginning", she answers. "But I am his trainer; he wouldn't seek to hurt me intentionally. I have to guide him as I do when we fight in the stadium".

"So, who initiated it?" I find myself asking almost immediately.

Melissa points to herself. "It's generally the trainer – or in your case, owner".

"But, I didn't want to…with her", I say. "Not until the idea was presented to me, at least".

"They can sense our urges, our desire", she explains to me, though I know this already of course. "If the relationship between the Pokemon and the trainer – or owner – is built of the right stuff, it's more than likely that they will find a way to communicate with you the fact that they'd happily get you off".

"Such a charming way to put it".

Melissa eyes me provocatively and I almost feel the need to preserve my dignity with hands across my crotch.

"A young man like you is sure to be filling your room with the smell of your urges", she teases. "Come on, lighten up. Trust me, you're normal".

I'm inclined to disagree, having spent several days unwillingly daydreaming about the many things Eevee would be positively willing to try with me.

Melissa makes me yelp like a little girl then as she suggests that I bring Eevee along over to her place and take notes as we watch class in session, to put it politely. My mind is scarred enough already, thank you very much. Still, the suggestion reminds me that I've been seeing Melissa differently for a number of years now. I wonder sometimes if the same applies to her. Perhaps not, given what I've just learnt. But then perhaps Blastoise is simply her sexual outlet.

I guess I'll just have to see.


End file.
